I did my surgical consult with the anesthesiologist here and took with me his recommendations and all my scan, x-rays, blood work. I was scheduled to check into the hospital on the 3rd and have my operation on the 9th those extra few days were meant for the surgeons there to have what ever other test they needed done, but there was a miscommunication between my GP and them because they thought I already had everything done.
It was my first visit to Martinique, which is just a lovely place. I didn’t see much of it that first time but I’ve been back since and it’s just beautiful.
Here’s what I know going in:
The name of the hospital
My surgeon’s name
That I had a 2,4cm insulinoma on the head of my pancreas
That the tumor would be removed
The operation would last approx 4 hours
My hospital stay should not exceed 15 days
Here’s what I learnt when I got there:
I have not one but two surgeons
That the tumor, the head of my pancreas and a 1/3 of my stomach would be removed
The surgery should last 8 hours
With a few days in intensive care
And I’ll be hospitalized much longer than I’d anticipated.
I’d caught a nasty cold the week before I checked into the hospital and had this persistent caught that just would not go away, the doctors decided I’d have enough of a struggle before me getting over the operation not to add a cold to it and pushed the operation back to March 9th.
I shared a room with Marie-André a lady in here early 40’s with a tumor, but hers was hemorrhaging and it was located in her stomach, she’d had hers at least 20years (that’s when the hemorrhaging started) but it was only diagnosed a few days earlier. At the time I met her she’d already had a month in the hospital in another ward trying to figure out why she was bleeding.
Her surgery was scheduled for the 9th and was moved up to the 7th. Needless to say we became fast friends, we bonded over our similar circumstances and are still very close friends today even thought we live on different islands.
In the time leading up to my surgery I was being ‘fortified’ was given supplements and encouraged to just eat a lot if only I knew what was to come I’d have savored those days.
Marie-André was wheeled out from our room on the 7th slightly before 6am and was brought back that evening, she was conscious but very groggy; she’d spent just a couple hours in intensive care. So I thought ‘that’s not too bad mine should be a breeze too’.
They moved us both to private rooms on the evening of the 8th; we were told we’d need as much peace and quiet as possible while we recuperate.
I was shaved from under the breast until the pubic area and was given an iodine solution to bathe with the following morning, a gown and instructions such as no jewelry, scrunchies or under wear, to be ready for 6am and that my last meal would be that evening.
March 9th
My mother was scheduled to arrive that day on the first flight, which is around 11am.
I was wheeled into the operating room minutes to 7am was greeted by two anesthesiologist, the one on call which I’d meet a few days earlier and an intern. The intern was having trouble finding a vein (my veins are hard to find, which made the million blood draws I’d had since being diagnosed even more difficult), so the anesthesiologist (female by the way J) did it and then they turned me on my side for the epidural, I winced at her first attempt with the needle and that’s all I remember until I was being awoken by a nurse and the doctor on call in ICU.
My operation lasted over 6 hours.
The head of my pancreas was removed, my gallbladder as well as 1/3 of my stomach and sent off to be tested.
There was some ‘rewiring’ done, new connections done between the remaining piece of pancreas, stomach, liver etc...
As I came to the nurse asked me my name, age if I had any kids etc… I was in a tremendous amount of pain and they decided to remove the epidural from my back, as it did absolutely nothing for the pain. I was put on morphine drips. And the breathing tube was taken out and I was put on oxygen. The epidural caused numbness in my back that lasted for months. I spent the night and the following 8 days in ICU. The ICU occupied most of the basement level of the Hospital; there were no windows, they were single rooms, which remained open all night with lights on and buzzes going off all night (the hearth monitors would go off when something went wrong with one of the patients).
I was hooked up to several IVs, to the morphine distributor, heart monitor, BP monitor, and urine pouch…
My stay in ICU should have been 3 days the most and my surgeons and interns (learning hospital with medical school attached) would visit every couple of days. But I developed sleep apnea (I’d stop breathing while sleeping, nurses woke me several times telling me to breathe) and water on my lungs. My breathing was quite shallow and an x-ray showed that I had water in my left lung, it was drained right there in my room on my bed with local anesthesia, my lung had to be re-inflated as it collapsed, which was rather quite painful actually. I had daily therapy for that. Today my breathing is still troubled forced and pained at times, my deep breaths aren’t ‘that’ deep anymore.
My mom was finally allowed to visit with me on the 10th she cried, I think that was the first time I saw my mom break down, she was fighting not too. But by then I was a mess, pale, my breathing was shallow the nurse on call that morning was just horrible expecting someone fresh out of surgery to role over on her own (that same nurse after I complained about her proceeded to degrade me by having a male orderly wash my privates after she got done with my sponge bath). Thankfully another nurse after hearing how rude the other one assigned herself to my care. Visiting hours in ICU were limited to 2 hours each day. By the 6th day I was going out of my mind from lack of sleep. The ICU was pretty busy and it was daytime 24/7. There was a power struggle between the ICU doctor and my surgeons who wanted me back under their care. The ICU doctor kept pushing back my release date from ICU to the surgical ward without notifying my surgeons.
I could not do anything for myself; I could brush my own teeth, comb my hair, get a drink of water, clean myself, pee or have a bowel movement without the assistance of someone.
I developed a greater appreciation for people in the medical field during my time in ICU. And i'm forever touched my the warmt and kidness of all the staff on the surgical ward, they made my stay actualy enjoyable.
Finally on the 8th day I was told I’d be going back to the surgical ward, I was sent to do x-rays of my lungs, the IVs that were feeding me were removed as well as the morphine and I was helped by 4 orderlies to stand and sit up for the first time in 8 days. Laying down I felt fine so I thought getting vertical again would be a breeze, boy was I wrong. I had 2 orderlies handling all the tubes and machines I was hooked up to and 2 to help me up. Once vertical the room just started to spin madly, I could not feel my legs at all, they sat me in a chair, I was supposed to stay in it for at least an hour, I lasted 5mns as I was passing out from the pain.
Nevertheless I was taken up to the surgical ward that evening where the entire staff anxiously awaited me, they were all concerned because I was down there so long and even had to give away my room, but I was assigned another single room. It was great to see natural sunlight again and have longer visits with family. Marie-André would send messages to each other via the orderlies until we were mobile again.
My doctors encouraged me to sit up more and walk around, my first whole day back in the surgical ward I was helped to the shower where an orderly helped me bathe but the second day I could stand without assistance and walk around while holding on to stuff.
I had my first solid meal in more than 10 days and it all came back up this dark green bile mess (which was the same color of my first bowel movements). The doctors told me it was normal. For the rest of my stay in the hospital I was served all my food puréed. Everything was put through the food processor. I met a couple times with the hospitals nutritionist; I had no dietary restrictions but needed to keep my sugar intake down.
My 3rd day back while showering I noticed how pale I was and my eyes were bright white for the first time in years (the tumor caused jaundice so my eyes had been a mustard yellow for a long time), my head was also spinning. During the daily blood draw it came up that my blood count was way low so I was given 3 pints of blood during the course of that day.
The rest of my stay was uneventful, I did my breathing therapy, took my meds and my little walks.
I was able to see my scar for the first time as well as the two drainage pouches. I was cut from side to side, which I expected given the placement of the pancreas. But my ‘zipper’ has a weird shape see bellow…
It was my first visit to Martinique, which is just a lovely place. I didn’t see much of it that first time but I’ve been back since and it’s just beautiful.
Here’s what I know going in:
The name of the hospital
My surgeon’s name
That I had a 2,4cm insulinoma on the head of my pancreas
That the tumor would be removed
The operation would last approx 4 hours
My hospital stay should not exceed 15 days
Here’s what I learnt when I got there:
I have not one but two surgeons
That the tumor, the head of my pancreas and a 1/3 of my stomach would be removed
The surgery should last 8 hours
With a few days in intensive care
And I’ll be hospitalized much longer than I’d anticipated.
I’d caught a nasty cold the week before I checked into the hospital and had this persistent caught that just would not go away, the doctors decided I’d have enough of a struggle before me getting over the operation not to add a cold to it and pushed the operation back to March 9th.
I shared a room with Marie-André a lady in here early 40’s with a tumor, but hers was hemorrhaging and it was located in her stomach, she’d had hers at least 20years (that’s when the hemorrhaging started) but it was only diagnosed a few days earlier. At the time I met her she’d already had a month in the hospital in another ward trying to figure out why she was bleeding.
Her surgery was scheduled for the 9th and was moved up to the 7th. Needless to say we became fast friends, we bonded over our similar circumstances and are still very close friends today even thought we live on different islands.
In the time leading up to my surgery I was being ‘fortified’ was given supplements and encouraged to just eat a lot if only I knew what was to come I’d have savored those days.
Marie-André was wheeled out from our room on the 7th slightly before 6am and was brought back that evening, she was conscious but very groggy; she’d spent just a couple hours in intensive care. So I thought ‘that’s not too bad mine should be a breeze too’.
They moved us both to private rooms on the evening of the 8th; we were told we’d need as much peace and quiet as possible while we recuperate.
I was shaved from under the breast until the pubic area and was given an iodine solution to bathe with the following morning, a gown and instructions such as no jewelry, scrunchies or under wear, to be ready for 6am and that my last meal would be that evening.
March 9th
My mother was scheduled to arrive that day on the first flight, which is around 11am.
I was wheeled into the operating room minutes to 7am was greeted by two anesthesiologist, the one on call which I’d meet a few days earlier and an intern. The intern was having trouble finding a vein (my veins are hard to find, which made the million blood draws I’d had since being diagnosed even more difficult), so the anesthesiologist (female by the way J) did it and then they turned me on my side for the epidural, I winced at her first attempt with the needle and that’s all I remember until I was being awoken by a nurse and the doctor on call in ICU.
My operation lasted over 6 hours.
The head of my pancreas was removed, my gallbladder as well as 1/3 of my stomach and sent off to be tested.
There was some ‘rewiring’ done, new connections done between the remaining piece of pancreas, stomach, liver etc...
As I came to the nurse asked me my name, age if I had any kids etc… I was in a tremendous amount of pain and they decided to remove the epidural from my back, as it did absolutely nothing for the pain. I was put on morphine drips. And the breathing tube was taken out and I was put on oxygen. The epidural caused numbness in my back that lasted for months. I spent the night and the following 8 days in ICU. The ICU occupied most of the basement level of the Hospital; there were no windows, they were single rooms, which remained open all night with lights on and buzzes going off all night (the hearth monitors would go off when something went wrong with one of the patients).
I was hooked up to several IVs, to the morphine distributor, heart monitor, BP monitor, and urine pouch…
My stay in ICU should have been 3 days the most and my surgeons and interns (learning hospital with medical school attached) would visit every couple of days. But I developed sleep apnea (I’d stop breathing while sleeping, nurses woke me several times telling me to breathe) and water on my lungs. My breathing was quite shallow and an x-ray showed that I had water in my left lung, it was drained right there in my room on my bed with local anesthesia, my lung had to be re-inflated as it collapsed, which was rather quite painful actually. I had daily therapy for that. Today my breathing is still troubled forced and pained at times, my deep breaths aren’t ‘that’ deep anymore.
My mom was finally allowed to visit with me on the 10th she cried, I think that was the first time I saw my mom break down, she was fighting not too. But by then I was a mess, pale, my breathing was shallow the nurse on call that morning was just horrible expecting someone fresh out of surgery to role over on her own (that same nurse after I complained about her proceeded to degrade me by having a male orderly wash my privates after she got done with my sponge bath). Thankfully another nurse after hearing how rude the other one assigned herself to my care. Visiting hours in ICU were limited to 2 hours each day. By the 6th day I was going out of my mind from lack of sleep. The ICU was pretty busy and it was daytime 24/7. There was a power struggle between the ICU doctor and my surgeons who wanted me back under their care. The ICU doctor kept pushing back my release date from ICU to the surgical ward without notifying my surgeons.
I could not do anything for myself; I could brush my own teeth, comb my hair, get a drink of water, clean myself, pee or have a bowel movement without the assistance of someone.
I developed a greater appreciation for people in the medical field during my time in ICU. And i'm forever touched my the warmt and kidness of all the staff on the surgical ward, they made my stay actualy enjoyable.
Finally on the 8th day I was told I’d be going back to the surgical ward, I was sent to do x-rays of my lungs, the IVs that were feeding me were removed as well as the morphine and I was helped by 4 orderlies to stand and sit up for the first time in 8 days. Laying down I felt fine so I thought getting vertical again would be a breeze, boy was I wrong. I had 2 orderlies handling all the tubes and machines I was hooked up to and 2 to help me up. Once vertical the room just started to spin madly, I could not feel my legs at all, they sat me in a chair, I was supposed to stay in it for at least an hour, I lasted 5mns as I was passing out from the pain.
Nevertheless I was taken up to the surgical ward that evening where the entire staff anxiously awaited me, they were all concerned because I was down there so long and even had to give away my room, but I was assigned another single room. It was great to see natural sunlight again and have longer visits with family. Marie-André would send messages to each other via the orderlies until we were mobile again.
My doctors encouraged me to sit up more and walk around, my first whole day back in the surgical ward I was helped to the shower where an orderly helped me bathe but the second day I could stand without assistance and walk around while holding on to stuff.
I had my first solid meal in more than 10 days and it all came back up this dark green bile mess (which was the same color of my first bowel movements). The doctors told me it was normal. For the rest of my stay in the hospital I was served all my food puréed. Everything was put through the food processor. I met a couple times with the hospitals nutritionist; I had no dietary restrictions but needed to keep my sugar intake down.
My 3rd day back while showering I noticed how pale I was and my eyes were bright white for the first time in years (the tumor caused jaundice so my eyes had been a mustard yellow for a long time), my head was also spinning. During the daily blood draw it came up that my blood count was way low so I was given 3 pints of blood during the course of that day.
The rest of my stay was uneventful, I did my breathing therapy, took my meds and my little walks.
I was able to see my scar for the first time as well as the two drainage pouches. I was cut from side to side, which I expected given the placement of the pancreas. But my ‘zipper’ has a weird shape see bellow…
One day while being taken to do my final x-ray to make sure everything was healing properly, the nurse took me in a wheel chair as it was quite a distance to walk and just as we turned the corner into the x-ray area an orderly rushing out with some results in hand not looking just crashed into me and landed on my stomach (a big muscular fella), at the time, adrenaline pumping, it didn’t hurt, but after a few minutes I was in so much pain. Thankfully he didn’t damage anything.
The results came back just before I was released from the hospital, the mass was malignant, but well localized, it had not spread to the surrounding tissue. My doctors were quite surprised at how well I took the news, but as I mentioned earlier I was sort of expecting it.
Drainage, staples (36) and stitches (4) were taken out the day before I was released and a nurse visited my home every two days to clean the scar and change the dressing.
I was finally released from the Hospital March 24th and flew home on the 26th.
And I thank God for this experience and seeing my through it, were it not for my faith I’d be a mess right now. Now some may find that strange but had I not gone through this and came out all the stronger for it I could not have been an inspiration to others. My strength while going through this was inspiration to a close friend of mine who went thru the same thing in November of last year (having a malignant tumor removed from her intestines). She said if “Gigi can go through this and come out smiling why should I wallow and feel sorry for myself, there is life after this!”
Special thanks to:
My G.P.: Dr. Martin-Chico
My Surgeons: Dr Roudié and Dr Diarra
ICU unit: Dr. Baroli
RN: Mrs. Philomène aka ‘maan filo’
The entire staff of the surgical ward: OB at the La Menard Hospital in Martinique
Very special thanks to my mom for holding my hand throughout this experience.
Stay tuned… more to come…
Comments
Blessings!